Mistletoe and Unicorns
by WinButler
Summary: Looks like it'll be another lonely Christmas for England. Alone and depressed at America's Secret Santa party, isn't there anyone who can make his Christmas this year? FrUk, multiple minor pairings.


A/N: Just a Hetalia Xmas oneshot.

Mistletoe and Unicorns

December 27th. Too many hundreds of years ago to possibly remember.

"_Get back here, stupid France! I hate you!"_

"_Ha ha! What's the matter, can't run as fast as me with those stumpy little legs?"_

_England let a growl out of his tiny throat, his rage intensifying as he pursued the teenage France. But it was no good. France was much faster than the still small England, and he knew he had no chance._

_Why did France have to ruin everything he liked? He'd stolen England favourite wooden unicorn, that had been whittled for him by his far more talented older brothers. And now he'd probably throw it in the river, stupid frog!_

_England saw France standing by the decrepit bridge, looking exceptionally guilty. _

"_What did you do, you horrible Frenchman?" cried England, pummelling the ground with his tiny feet as fast as they would take him. _

"_Er....sorry, England. I kind of dropped it, and, um...." France opened his hands. England's unicorn was smashed into four pieces. _

"_Look, I can try to fix it if you want - "_

"_No! I hate you so much! How could you do this?!" cried England, bursting into tears and running away._

_He would stay by the river all night. France did not come to look for him. _

* * *

December 23rd. Present day. 

"OK, everyone!" a grinning America yelled, as he inelegantly pulled himself up so that he was standing on the table of the conference room while all the other nations were seated around it. "Here are the rules of Secret Santa!"

Yes. America, in all his infinite wisdom, had decided that this year, the nations would play Secret Santa. After all, they had no other friends to exchange gifts with, right? Besides, it would be _fun. _There was no substitute for fun.

England surveyed the room. The rest of the nations were looking very bored indeed (either that, or entertaining themselves). Spain was gazing adoringly at Romano, who was looking as though he'd rather stick pins in his eyes than buy a gift for any one of these cretins. Italy was jabbering away to Germany as per usual, Prussia had that expression he wore whenever he was plotting something nefarious, and Austria was carefully avoiding his gaze. After all, Prussia's nefarious plots did usually involve him. Lithuania was blushing as Poland passed him notes under the table. Russia was holding a sewing needle (god lord, who the _hell _had given him a needle?) precariously close to America's ankles, preparing for a good hard poke. Belarus was glaring murderously at America. No change there, then. England himself was attempting to avoid France's usual lustful glances.

France had been..._weird _lately. He usually attempted to feel up England (well, most of the nations, really, but he had always seemed particularly fond of England) at least seven times a day, but lately....he'd just kind of given up. He still spoke to England, still _stared _at England, but these days, it was with a different expression in his eyes. England didn't profess to know anything about this kind of thing, but it certainly seemed as though something odd had happened to make France less interested. Not that England _cared, _of course. He'd never be interested in that fucking Frenchman in a million years. No, _more _than that. Say a billion. Stupid idea.

"So, we're gonna pass the hat around, and everyone pick out a name, and that person - "

"For god's sake, Al, we all know how to play Secret Santa, just pass the bloody hat around so we can get out of here."

It was true that it had been an interminably long day. The nations had been in meetings since nine o' clock that morning, and were all desperate to get home. This did not seem to deter America, who was blathering on with his usual enthusiasm, occasionally pausing to bat Russia away with a giggle.

"I know, I just wanted to make sure! Don't be such a grumpus, Iggy. You better liven up by the party."

Oh _yes. _That was the best part. America was throwing a house party the next evening, Christmas Eve, to celebrate, and exchange gifts. England knew it would just be an excuse for everyone to get completed sloshed and all the couples in the group, none of which he was a part of, to get off with each other underneath the inevitable seventeen boughs of mistletoe America would have in his spacious living room. Wonderful.

Still. Perhaps it was better than spending Christmas alone.

"So, if everyone just draws a name..." America jumped backwards off the table, sliding into his chair and throwing Russia a wicked grin. "This is gonna be so much fun."

The reactions of the nations upon reading the name they had drawn varied from mild indifference to abject horror. England was not among the lucky few, he realised as he glanced down at his scrap of paper. On which, in America's scrawly handwriting, was written a single word – _Russia. _

Great. Whatever he got for Ivan, he'd probably end up hating it and England would end up with a smack on the head with the pipe (still, the pipe was preferable to that pickaxe he sometimes had). It could have been worse. It could have been America, who was impossible to buy for, since he already had _everything. _It could have been France.

"OK, let's decide on a spending limit. I was thinking, like, three thousand dollars?"

England's jaw dropped. "Are you bloody mad? Three grand? Your economy's as bad as mine, you can't spend three thousand on a Christmas present! I was thinking more like thirty quid, or whatever the equivalent is in each nation's respective currency. It's about fifty dollars, I guess?"

America's face fell. "Fifty bucks? You can't get anything for that...."

Russia looked at America, wide-eyed. "It is the thoughts that counts, is that not correct, Alfred? Many of us cannot afford to be spending our nations' money on frivolities such as this. You included."

America glared at him, but caved. "Fine. Fifty bucks, or equivalent."

"Are we done here?" asked an exasperated England.

"Meeting adjourned!" yelled America, rushing out of the room. He had eaten his last hamburger over an hour ago, and there was a Krispy Kreme stand right outside the conference centre. No prizes for guessing where _he _was rushing off to.

Fuck. England needed to corner someone, fast.....someone who knew Russia well. Someone who would know the sort of thing he might like.

Lithuania! Perfect. He strolled over, trying to make it look as casual as he could.

"Er, Poland? Do mind if I have a word with Lithuania in private?"

Poland raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, shrugged and nodded. "That's, like, fine, I guess. Whatevs. See you later, Toris." He said, giving Lithuania a quick kiss on the cheek before departing.

Making sure all the other nations were safely out of the room, England hurriedly tried to explain what he wanted.

"I have _Russia _for Secret Santa, Toris. Russia of all people, and I have no idea what to get him. I was thinking since you two are pretty close you might be able to tell me what he likes."

Lithuania looked thoughtful. "You got Russia? OK. Well, I guess you should just get him something he'll really appreciate. Like vodka. He loves vodka. I hear they sell some OK brands in England."

"I don't know, I'd rather get him something he can keep."

"Well, I don't know. He loves sunflowers....but sunflowers wilt. And die. I don't think that'd be such a good idea. He gets very upset whenever his sunflowers die."

"I see."

"I'm really sorry if I'm not being helpful, Arthur. The thing is....I really don't actually know him that well. I don't know what he likes and dislikes. I don't know any of his secrets. Or his hopes. Or his fears. I don't know any of that."

"It's OK, Toris, don't worry. I can think of something myself. You've given me an idea, of a sort, at any rate."

Toris cleared his throat. "Have you maybe thought about asking Alfred?"

Arthur snorted. "I'm not asking that dolt. He'll probably suggest I get him something like a lifetime supply of cheeseburgers."

Lithuania laughed. "Maybe. Hey, you could ask Kat. She got him his scarf, and he never takes that thing off."

"Sure. Well, thanks, Toris." Arthur turned to go, but was interrupted.

"Hey, um, Arthur? While you're here, I was just wondering if you could maybe help me with my gift. I got France, and you two are pretty tight these days, and - "

"No we aren't!" Arthur snapped, blushing like mad. "Where d'you get that idea? Who told you that?"

Lithuania shook head in panic. "No, no-one told me, I just thought - "

"You thought wrong." Said England coldly, turning on his heel and leaving.

* * *

Christmas Eve

England shook his head as he rang America's doorbell. What was he doing here? He wasn't going to enjoy this party at all. He should just leave Russia's gift with America and go home. He wasn't meant for things like this and - "

"Iggy! Come on in!"

America had glitter in his hair. He was wearing several tinsel ropes as scarves, and there were a number of rolls of duct tape around his wrists. He was clearly decorating (or had a really dodgy idea of fancy dress). England was early. By about an hour, actually, but he'd never approved of lateness.

"We're just finishing up with the living room at the moment."

England stepped inside, hoisting his large gift in behind him.

"Woah, what's that? It's massive, Iggy!"

England rolled his eyes. "It's my Secret Santa gift, of course. And I'm not telling you what it is, that'll ruin the surprise."

"Daww. You're stingy. Well, come on, it'll fit under the tree!"

Arthur followed Alfred into his spacious living room, where Austria and Prussia were hanging baubles under a gigantic Christmas tree, below which there were already nine neatly arranged parcels.

"Who else is here?" enquired England.

"Oh, Hungary's in the next room hanging mistletoe. Germany and Italy are here too, you know how Germany is about punctuality! And of course they dragged Spain and Romano along too."

"Of course."

"They're all playing on the Wii in the games room. I thought later we could have a Mario Kart tournament!"

Arthur looked sceptical. He wasn't renowned for his video game skills. Prussia, however, lightened up immediately at the mention of video games.

"Hell yeah! I'm totally gonna kick your ass, America!"

America narrowed his eyes. Video games were not something to be taken so lightly. This was serious business now. "We'll just see about that, Prussia."

"Yeah, we will. We'll see me kicking your ass from here to Yao's house."

Wishing to interrupt the steadily more childish conversation, Arthur came up with some more inane questions. "Where's Russia?"

"Hm? Oh, he's in the kitchen. He's icing the Christmas tree biscuits. Actually, there's a lot of them, I think I'll go help him. Are you OK to stay in here and help these guys?"

Arthur shrugged. "Sure."

America bounced happily away to the kitchen. England, having no particular desire to hang more mistletoe than there already was (he had seriously underestimated with his guess of seventeen), decided to blue-tack tinsel to the walls instead.

He was beginning to tire of his task when Hungary walked through the side door, Germany and all the others trailing behind her. She gave her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek and started to arrange the chips and dip. England noticed that Spain and Romano were holding hands. In front of other people. This was a big step forward for them. Germany and Italy were comfortably snuggled on the couch.

England rolled his eyes._ And so it begins_, he thought to himself. He needed a stiff drink. He was pretty sure America had a liquor cabinet somewhere in his kitchen, and a nice glass of scotch would certainly not go amiss at this point. He shook his head sadly as he made his way to the door into the kitchen. It wasn't even seven thirty. It was going to be a long night.

He swung to door open and made his way to the cabinet, rolling his eyes at the frankly vomit-inducing sight of Russia with his arms around America's waist, nuzzling his neck while America giggled like a schoolgirl.

England poured out some scotch, knocking it back right away. And then pouring out some more. He noticed Prussia enter the room and stroll over to him.

"Yo, England. Care to share?"

"Knock yourself out." Muttered England, sliding the bottle over to Prussia, who already had a glass in his hand.

"So you wanna forget about it too, huh?"

England shrugged. "Forget about what?"

"Don't be a dumbass. The fact that everybody at this lame party apart from us is attached. Oh, and France. But you know what he's like, he'll bone anything with a pulse."

England scowled. "I know exactly what France is like, thanks. You don't need to remind me. So what's your excuse?"

Prussia exhaled. "They're kissing. He's kissing her in there. That's a valid reason for stronger drinks, if anything is."

"Ah. Still pining, I take it?"

Prussia shrugged. "Little bit. Wonder if she'll ever come to her senses."

England practically snorted so hard scotch flew out of his nose. "Who do you think you're kidding? Everyone knows it's him you want in your bed. Why are you even bothering to pretend otherwise?"

"I don't really know anymore, to be honest. I guess just because it's kind of expected of me to hate him and love her. It would be weird to explain to people that it's the other way around. And it's been going on for too long now."

England nodded. "Yeah. I guess. So what d'you say we get out of here? I have this feeling we're unwanted in this kitchen."

Prussia laughed. "I have a feeling those two couldn't give less of a damn. No-one else even exists when they're around each other."

Sure enough, Russia and America were now licking icing off each other's fingers, completely oblivious to Prussia and England very pointedly walking past them on their way out.

* * *

It was eleven o'clock, and the party was in full swing. People were dancing, hugging, generally having a good time. America in particular seemed ridiculously over-excited, frequently running up to people and hitting them quite hard on the arm.

"I'm sorry, I just can't help myself! I need to let out my Christmas energy!"

The Mario Kart tournament had concluded with a resounding victory for America's team over Prussia, causing Prussia to pointedly sulk in the corner for a good seven minutes before he got bored. England had made an embarrassed apology to Lithuania for how short he'd been with him the day before, but thankfully Lithuania didn't seem to mind.

America had announced that it was time for the exchange of gifts. He wanted the whole thing out of the way before midnight. England noticed once more, as he had been noticing all night, that France was conspicuously absent. He had said he was going to be there, hadn't he? What was taking him so long? Why wasn't he there?

Everyone gathered around the Christmas tree. America put his Santa hat on and started dishing out presents.

"Ukraine, here, this one's for you."

Katya blushed and thanked America. "I wonder who it's from...."

Quickly many other nations were enjoying their gifts from Santa America (really, he should have let Finland dish out the presents, thought England to himself).

Pretty soon almost everyone had a gift. America was gleefully playing with his new Easy-bake oven from Belgium, Ukraine and Canada were cuddled up on the couch playing Canada's new DS game, Estonia and Lithuania were comparing gifts with Latvia and Belarus. America had drawn Switzerland, and, of course, had thought it was a brilliant idea to buy him a new gun. None of the other nations wanted firearms at their Christmas party, so Switzerland was currently standing outside lovingly examining his new toy. America passed the last gift under the tree, England's large parcel, over to Russia.

"Here you go, dude. Hope you enjoy."

Russia tore the wrapping open to reveal a large mahogany picture frame. Inside was a very large photograph England had taken of a field of sunflowers.

"This is...beautiful." whispered Russia. "Did you take this, er, whoever my Santa might be?"

"Yes." Muttered England. "I took it. It's in Cornwall, that field. Took a trip down there last night, stayed til midday today. Just had to get it enlarged and buy the frame. I just....have a bit of photography experience, and I know you like sunflowers or whatever, so..."

England was cut off by Russia pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. "England! This is such a wonderful gift! You are really a very nice person, you know this, yes?"

"Um...that's nice of you to say, Russia, but I think I just heard one of my ribs cracking."

"Oh, sorry!" giggled Russia, pulling back. "England, where is your gift?" he asked, looking puzzled.

England shrugged. "I guess my Santa never bothered to get me anything."

"Nope!" grinned America. "Wrong again, Iggy! He's on his way."

"Who is?"

"France. He texted me, said he'll try and make it before midnight, but the gift's not finished yet so it's not looking good."

"Finished?" asked England. "He's making the gift?"

America shrugged. "I don't know, I guess so."

* * *

There were two minutes to midnight. France has still not appeared with England's gift, and England had, by this point, started drinking whiskey beneath the Christmas tree. He was clearly not going get a gift. The next year was clearly going to be as much fail as this one had been.

"Hey hey, everyone!" exclaimed America. "I had a cool idea!"

This clearly meant America had had a terrible idea.

"I thought, since we're not going see each other on New Year's Eve, it might be nice if we carried a tradition across to Christmas Eve! At midnight, I think everyone should kiss somebody!"

England groaned. Of course it would be something inane and ridiculous like that. Yet another excuse for another drink.

"OK, let's do the countdown!"

"Ten!"

England took another shot of whiskey.

"Nine!"

France still wasn't here.

"Eight!"

Spain edged closer to Romano.

"Seven!"

Austria was sitting between Prussia and Hungary on the couch.

"Six!"

Italy was on Germany's lap.

"Five!"

China's arms were around Vietnam, as Japan and Greece and Hong Kong with Taiwan shuffled closer together.

"Four!"

Poland and Lithuania were giggling secretively in the corner.

"Three!"

Canada put an arm around Ukraine's waist and pulled her towards him.

"Two!"

England wrapped his lips around the whiskey bottle once more.

"One!"

France _still _wasn't here.

"Zero! Merry Christmas, everyone!"

Off they went. Spain and Romano in a private corner, Japan and Greece behind the Christmas tree, Poland and Lithuania under the mistletoe. Sealand gave Latvia a peck on the cheek while Finland and Sweden exchanged a tender kiss. Prussia and Denmark, who was sitting on his other side, were having a fairly heavily inebriated make-out session, while Prussia clung to Austria's hand where no-one else could see. Austria gave Hungary a chaste kiss on the lips. Norway gave a blushing Iceland a soft kiss on the lips while Germany and Italy kissed beside them on the other couch. America (he always had to be the bloody centre of attention, didn't he?) was straddling Russia on a chair in the middle of the room, and the two were making out like there was no tomorrow.

England rolled his eyes. What had he been expecting? For France to show up on the count of one with a hundred English red roses and sweep England off his feet at the stroke of midnight? He was living in a fucking fantasy world, and he knew it. He dragged himself off the floor a few minutes later, when most of the couples (bar America and Russia) had stopped kissing, and continued to eat and drink.

He shuffled to the door, grabbing his coat on the way. What was the point staying? He didn't have a gift, he had no one to spend Christmas with after all. It wasn't as if he cared about all those stupid kissing couples. If only they could just spare a few minutes of their time to talk to him. Why were couples in love always like this? He'd been alone all evening because all his friends had this instinct to just pair off with whoever was available that week, or insisted on being in committed relationships, like Germany and Italy.

Never mind. This party had gone exactly as he had expected.

Excepting the fact, that is, that just as England was going to reach for the door, France burst in.

"France!" cried America, jumping off Russia and running over. "Totally awesome to see ya, buddy!" he grinned, embracing France in a hug.

France raised an eyebrow. "America, how many beers have you had?"

"Oh, not that many!" giggled America, scampering off, probably back to Russia.

England was very aware that most of the other nations now had their eyes on the two of them.

France gave England The Look. That look that made England want to throw all his pride out the window and throw his arms around France.

"England....I am so sorry I'm late."

England scowled. "You missed midnight, bloody frog."

"I apologize. I realise that my gift to you may not make up for the fact that you did not get to receive it with everyone else. However, I hope it may be a start."

God damn it all to hell. Why did France have to sound so sweet when he wanted to?

"OK. Give it to me, then."

"Here it is. I hope you remember it. I admit it's unlikely, but - "

England was not speaking. He unwrapped the gift to reveal a polished wooden box. "France....is this a music box?"

France had the grace to blush. "I know you like them, dear Arthur. And this one plays a song I am certain you will recognise. One of your favourites, is it not?"

"I suppose I better find out." Smiled England. "Is there a ballet dancer inside?"

"Better." Replied France.

England lifted the lid to hear the gentle tinkle of the music box playing what sounded like "Jerusalem", one of England's favourite hymns.

"I know I could have chosen something more modern, Arthur, but this song always reminds me of you, so..."

But England was not paying attention. In the centre of the music box was a very old, slightly worse-for-wear figure. But it was a unicorn. Not just any unicorn. A unicorn whittled from wood, with barely noticeable joins where it had been put back together.

"You – you- I don't - "

France smiled warmly. "I promised you I'd fix it. I'm sorry it took me this many years to do so. But I fixed it."

England said nothing. He burst into tears and ran upstairs.

America scowled. "Aw, man, what d'you do to upset him now?"

France was already gone.

* * *

"Arthur? Arthur, are you in here?"

"...yeah." France heard a sniffle from behind a spare bedroom door. He shut it behind him and approached England.

"Why did you do it?" whispered England. "I thought...you always hated me. We piss each other off all the time. And then you started ignoring me, and - "

"I did?"

"Yeah." Muttered England. "And I thought you just couldn't be bothered with me anymore, and then you go and do this. I don't understand you."

France sighed. "I assure you, I never, ever stopped bothering with you. How could I?"

"Well. You don't like me or anything. So why would you?"

France was uncomfortably close. He was so close England could feel his warm breath on his lips. France looped an arm around his waist. "You are quite correct, Arthur. It is not like that I feel for you."

"Then...what is it?"

France rolled his eyes. "Are you going to make me say it out loud, my dear? When it's on the tip of both our tongues. Surely I love you is so overdone!"

England heart pounded in his chest. "You...."

"Love you? Yes, dearest Arthur. Took you long enough to figure it out. Even Alfred got there before you."

Arthur snorted. "He didn't!"

France grinned. "Well, all right. He didn't. Russia might have mentioned it to him...."

Arthur scowled. "Stupid gossipy vodka-drinking bastard....."

"Now now, I think you're rather fond of him, really." Said France, pulling England closer, close enough that their lips were practically brushing. "He makes America so very happy, after all. And you got him such a lovely gift for Christmas."

Arthur blushed. "It...it wasn't a even a millionth as good as this." He was still clutching at his music box.

"Does it mean so much to you?" said France, almost in a whisper.

England shuddered at the feeling of France's breath dancing on his lips, his hands caressing his back, threading in his hair. "Yes. It does."

France didn't see any need for more words. He closed the space in between their lips, and finally gave England the Christmas he had been dreaming of.

The two kissed tenderly, then they kissed passionately. They kissed lovingly, and chastely, and delicately, and roughly. They kissed on the bed, on the floor, on the dresser. They kissed on the lips, the neck, the chest. They kissed each other's fingertips. They kissed until their bodies melted into one another.

They never even noticed that no one had come to look for them, when they woke up the next morning in the bed of the spare room, their clothes long since cast on the floor.

France placed a delicate kiss on England's temple.

"Merry Christmas, Arthur."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, it's a bit rushed, sorry. I'm absolutely shattered, and I left my notes for this fic at uni. Hope you still like it, everyone.


End file.
